The Next Level
by Gyrotank
Summary: A short story describing how the Rescue Rangers could hand the token over to the next generation. This short story is part of no particular Rangerverse, although it contains references to Chris Fischer's 'Of Mice and Mayhem' graphic novel and my novel 'Northblight'.


Truth be told, they did not care at all.

Chip shifted his gaze from a flock of seagulls to the Wing. It was the only truly bright object on the early-morning sea-front and its florid colors contrasted starkly with dull grayness of a concrete barrier. If anything could ever draw unwanted attention to them, it was their plane, and never their drama. Fortunately, rare people passing, or rather, running by them were too preoccupied with pavement beneath their feet, music in their headphones, and readings of their fitness trackers. Still Chip wished they had repainted the Wing into nonspottable tints. In that case many of their missions would have unfolded quite differently.

But it made no difference now.

"I don't like those clouds, Daddy," Crisp pointed at some barely visible dots over the cape which ran almost perpendicularly to the shoreline. "Maybe we should wait till tomorrow, huh?"

Chip looked at his son with strict fondness. Crisp was his mirror image save for his mother's blue eyes. His character was appropriate, too — both prudent and pushing. However, his latest words indicated he gave up trying to dissuade his father directly and switched to appealing to the forces of nature. How do the books of wisdom put it? Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance? The third stage, then. Half-way through—

"So how about tomorrow? Let's do it tomorrow, okay?"

"No, Crisp. Today."

"But it's just one day! What will it change?"

"Nothing for the two of us. But that's another day of suffering for your mom. Have you thought about it?"

Crisp sniffed and looked over his shoulder at the nearby group. Their center of attention and attraction was Gadget, who could rather be deduced than seen behind relatives and friends mightily hugging her. The scene resembled her liberation from the Dr. Snow's lab so closely it hurt, but this time the mood was the opposite. And not only because of Gadget and Chip being two of just four surviving participants of those dramatic events.

"Gadget, I'm so sorry, so sorry," one of the survivors, Tammy, kept repeating, sobbing loudly. Nowadays one could barely recognize that young and playful squirrel girl Rescue Ranger had accidentally met. Aging and dangerous adventures had slowly taken their toll. Chip also suspected her fading was greatly accelerated by her family life with Sparky whose forgetfulness gradually turned from zest and peculiarity into a problem and threatened to become a real scourge. But the really devastating blow was, undoubtedly, Gadget's diagnosis.

"Stop it, Tammy, it's not your fault," the mouse admonished her gently, though it was obvious she was struggling to smile and even keep her head straight. "None of us is guilty of it. Well, aside of me, maybe…"

Gadget had had headaches for a very long time. Building, repairing and improving equipment for Rescue Rangers, Small Central Hospital and several animal teams from nearby cities that asked for the privilege to be blessed to fight crime by the former First Chipmunk himself required so much time and efforts it was impossible to avoid consuming capybara doses of caffeine. But when Monterey Jack's old buddy, secret lemming Mathias Shelm asked her for help on behalf of his nameless organization, it became clear those projects were merely child's play. Shelm came to Gadget with designs that proved too hard nuts to crack for his bureau's numerous regular and even more numerous irregular engineers; with designs requiring not cleverness but genius. And maximum concentration. And capybara doses of ever more powerful stimulants.

"You'll kill yourself! Exert yourself to death!" Tammy lamented every time she was examining Gadget's regular cardiogram or blood test results.

"Nonsense," Gadget waved off her concerns every time. "Then again, they need me". Truth be told, this need was mutual. Gadget enjoyed working for Shelm who issued her the next level challenges raising the bar every time as if asking whether she was up to those. And she dealt with them, casting aside exhaustion, headaches and occasional tremor attacks when she was forced to hold pencil or screwdriver with both her hands. But when uncontrollable nausea began to accompany almost every meal she had, Tammy raised the team-wide alarm and they brought Gadget to Small Central Hospital almost by force where she had tomography among other things. The diagnosis sounded like sentence: malignant inoperable tumor in brain's left hemisphere, very close and even partially around the microchip implanted as a part of the Mouse Assassin Project.

"No! It's them! They still got you! I swear I'll got them all, too!" Digit, Crisp's twin sister, promised firmly through her tears, referring to the microchip's embedded self-destruction mechanism. It was logical to assume that the directed shock which disabled the chip turned it off, too, otherwise Gadget would have been killed long ago by a micro explosion in her brain caused by remote signal. But when Gadget heard the diagnosis she couldn't help but joke sadly that Black Table got to her eventually. And now she was deeply regretting having said that.

"Stop it, Digit, don't fly into passion," she said reclining slightly and looking into her daughter's eyes. "They are long gone, finished, defeated. They won't cause mayhem anymore."

"You're wrong! I feel it! They are hiding!" Digit insisted. Gadget was about to reprimand her daughter strictly, but instead she shut her eyes, clenched her teeth and swayed in the opposite direction. Fortunately, there was somebody she could lean on.

"I got you!" A young chipmunk announced. He had unnaturally large ears, yellowish eye whites and truly flash-like reaction which allowed him to grab Gadget by her elbow before she lost her balance completely.

"Got you, too!" A round-faced vole youngster announced. His relative clumsiness was fully made up by his sheer size which could make an average sumo fighter green with envy. So it was enough for him to make a small step to the side to act as a full-fledged safety bag.

"Don't push me!" the chipmunk shouted at him, suddenly feeling vastly outspaced.

"Don't push me yourself!" the brawny boy snarled.

"Juz! Daze! Stop it now!" Tammy called for order. "What a poor choice of time and place for it!"

The teenagers dropped their eyes and exchanged frowned glances which clearly read _"It's your fault!"_ Chip's heart missed a beat, for they resembled him and Dale in their youth so closely. As the saying goes, your genes are your verdict. No wonder Daze inherited not only his father's bulging nose but also his explosive temper. Juustoleipa, called Juz by his friends, whom Monterey Jack had introduced as his long lost and miraculously found Finnish nephew, was not mild at all, too. To tell the truth, he was too large and too wide faced for a northern red-backed vole, and there was a reason to suspect they were related much closer than the Aussie dared to acknowledge. Still, taking into account rich history and wide geography of his travels, he must have had enough extramarital siblings to form at least a dozen Rescue Ranger teams.

"Don't worry, Tammy, I'm okay," Gadget said. She regained her balance, opened her eyes and rewarded the youngsters with warm, albeit slightly crooked smile. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Aunt Gadget!" Juz and Daze responded happily. Tammy pursed her lips in deprecation but decided to postpone the badly needed educational session for a while. Sure, no words of hers could fully restrain the passionate and ardent youth, but she was the only one capable of influencing them and putting them on the right path. At least she did not need to earn their trust and respect. Despite having been a vagrant for most of his life, Juustoleipa did not dare to disobey Monterey's precepts and admonitions, while Daze had been literally nurtured and brought up by Tammy, for his own mother did not survive his birth.

" _You were right, Chip! My inventions kill people!"_ Gadget kept repeating again and again on that day and over several following ones. Her husband's timid objections that it had been Foxglove who insisted on building and applying the gene splicer based on Nimnul's Modemizer to her and Dale, and that death in childbirth was not uncommon even among the representatives of the same species didn't help and didn't comfort at all. The mouse inventor had experienced similar hysterics when she learnt she had been turned into the Mouse Assassin, but this time there was no saving straw like mind-controlling microchip to clutch at. She was on the verge of committing suicide, but then Dale interfered. Having spent almost a week in shock and prostration, he abruptly came to his senses, ordered Monterey Jack to smash the locked and barricaded workshop door, entered carrying his newborn son, showed the infant to half-insane Gadget and said just one phrase: _"Thank you for Daze."_ Subsequently Gadget said on numerous occasions that it was the best she had ever heard. Chip grated upon that a little but never complained.

"Oh my," Gadget shook her head a bit to make sure the attack was over. "It never hit like that before. Looks like I won't be able to stand upright soon. We need to speed things up, don't you agree?"

The see-off company could agree with anything but that, but no objections were said out loud. All possible objections had been said during long and thorough conversations, disputes, scandals, and squabbles. The Gadget Question had already been closed and settled.

The question of her companion, on the other hand…

"Maybe you can still persuade dad?" Digit pleaded, looking right into her mother's eyes. "He's alright, he doesn't need to do it. Please…"

"Please! Please!" Daze, Juz and Crisp joined her. Gadget looked at Chip instinctively, and the chipmunk instantly became the center of everyone's attention. _"Oh boy, here we go again,"_ Chip thought. He pursed his lips and glanced about the team waiting for him to speak. _"They behave like some children…"_ For him this topic was long closed and he had no desire and no energy to go in circles again and again now. Unfortunately, they could have avoided it only if they had left the Headquarters secretly, at night, leaving the others with some soulful farewell letter. But Gadget was against it, and Chip, although it was his idea, was reluctant to act this way. The seeing-off was needed, even necessary. But, oh boy, how hard it was…

Chip cleared his throat. "Listen, kids," he began. He was not afraid of insulting anyone, for all other adults remained silent. Gadget was fully aware of everything, Tammy knew Chip well enough to understand resistance was futile, and Sparky was absent-mindedly thinking about something of his own. "If you think it was easy for me to make this decision, that I am excited of what's going on, you are deeply mistaken— No, no, keep mum! Let me finish! Thank you. So, believe me when I tell you that I love you all. You are my children, all of you. Our children. I would give up many things, almost everything, almost anything in the world to stay with you. But I can't give up your Mom. Not her. Never. That's not an option."

Daze bit his lip. Digit sobbed. Juz loudly swept his nose with his paw. Crisp swallowed a lump in his throat. "But we don't demand—" he began in dull voice.

Chip nodded his agreement. "You don't. The life itself does." He looked at his wife, her eyes half-closed to fend off the light and tiredness. "But it won't happen. I won't give up. Nothing will separate us. Not even death."

"Oh boy, Daddy, please—"

"What 'oh boy, Daddy, please'?"

"Don't say that, it's— it's so horrible—"

"Don't disgrace yourself, Crisp!" Chip raised his voice. "And stop disgracing me. That's not the way I brought you up. Not the way I taught you."

"No! You didn't! You never taught me what to do if— if you—"

Ship squeezed his son's shoulder. "Crisp, I know it's hard. But I also know it can be worse. I lost my parents when I was twice as younger. For a very long time my life had no point, no sense. I got them when I met your Uncle Dale first, then Uncle Monty with Uncle Zipper, and finally when I met your Mom. You and your sister are much luckier, on one hand. But on the other hand, it would be much more difficult for you, for you have to go further. Reach the new heights that we never conquered. The road is long, so the sooner you start, the higher the chances to reach the destination. So the time has come to pass the reins of power to you."

"But for that you don't need to—"

"For that — no. But for being with your Mother—"

"But you won't be with her!" Crisp stamped his foot in desperation. "You won't be together, you… There will be no you at all!"

"Well, that's an open question, but we won't be separated. And that's what counts."

"And we don't count?"

There were no answer to this question that would satisfy both parties, so Chip evaded it. "I can't be without her, Crisp".

"But you can be without us?"

"A second ago you told me we won't be together because we'll cease to exist. So we won't be without you. Agreed?"

Chip hoped to confuse his son, but Crisp proved a match for his father in evading rhetorical traps. "Don't play a fool, Dad! You know what I mean! You can't do this to us! It's just wrong!"

"And you think you can do this to me?!"

There was so much anger and desperation in Chip's voice that Crisp backed off instinctively and blinked dispiritedly. "What… what are you talking about?"

"Have you thought how I would live without her? How would I feel? What would I do? Would I be able to eat, sleep, read, do anything at all? I have lost her once already. I have already thought she was dead. It was terrible. Aunt Tammy remembers it, she'll confirm it."

"I remember it, too," Sparky said. "I joined the team at that time. I can confirm everything."

"Sure thing, Sparky, sure thing. See, Crisp, Uncle Sparky can confirm it, too. "

"Confirm what?" Sparky asked in confusion.

"Don't mind it, just thinking aloud. In short, I don't want to relive it again and poison your lives with my suffering. I don't want to be no helper but a burden. I made my decision. It's final. Put up with it. Accept it. Let me go. Please."

Chip was addressing the whole team, but kept looking at his son, who breathed heavily as though running a marathon. The rest of the rodents stood silently, trying hard not to move and blinking as little as possible. They stood in tight group, but they were actually two armies filed in opposite ranks, waiting for the outcome of the conversation between their commanders meeting in the center of the soon-to-be battlefield. In fact, it was even more dramatic than that. It wasn't a conversation of two rivals, nor was it a conversation between father and son. The past and the future were having a talk here.

"Dad…"

"Please, Crisp," Chip repeated. His harshness was gone without a trace. He treated his son as his equal. Moreover, he entrusted Crisp with his fate. Asked Crisp for his blessing. And while desperately wanting to refuse, Crisp felt himself unable to do it. Incapable of doing it. Having no right to do it.

"I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, son." Chip parted his arms and was about to step forward to embrace Crisp, but Crisp beat him to it and literally leaped forward, almost knocking Chip off and forcing him to catch the air with his mouth for a few seconds. _"Either he is stronger than he looks, or I grew too weak to take punches,"_ Chip thought, barely holding his tears up. He felt being a master surpassed by his favorite student. Sure, it happened because he grew weaker. Nevertheless, he was putting Rescue Rangers in good hands. In dear hands. He didn't live for nothing. His leaving won't be for nothing, too.

"I'll miss you," Crisp said. He stepped back indicating the road was clear. "I'll miss you very, very much. Both of you, I mean," he quickly corrected himself, turning to face approaching Gadget. The others followed her, walking slowly, solemnly and somberly. Chip was pleased to note that they were holding up better than he expected. Sure, years of crime fighting leave their mark, strip away illusions and harden the spirit, but, in fact, for the young it was the first such test. It was the first time they had an opportunity to bid farewell to those dear to them.

Chip closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and held his breath for a moment. Unlike his own and adopted children, who were either too young or absent at the time, he remembered all the losses and farewells as vividly as if they were yesterday. Foxglove's funeral. Dale giving up his life to prevent a nuclear explosion. Shelm's short message telling them that Monterey Jack wouldn't be coming back from their top secret assignment of utmost importance. Prosy, but no less sorrowful Zipper's dying of old age… No, this one happened when they were old enough. But there was no drama, no anguish. Zipper felt his time was running out. He readied himself and gave his friends all necessary instructions. He did everything to dilute the unavoidable stress with routine. And it worked. Yes, it was sad. Hard. Mournful. But at the same time it was solemn. Dignified. It clearly felt just a right way of things. Not a tragedy, but an appropriate finish of live rich with events and achievements. Chip secretly wished to leave this world exactly the same way. But the world knew better…

"You alright?" Chip heard his wife's voice and felt her fingers touching his paw.

"Alright," he answered confidently. He took Gadget's paw and headed towards the Wing, but then abruptly stopped, turned around and took his jacket off. "Almost forgot. Crisp, it's for you".

Crisp was clever, knew his father very well and predicted this gesture beforehand, but still could not help quivering with trepidation. He knew this jacket's history, knew what it meant for his parents, and understood clearly what it was at the moment. That's why he glanced back at his friends, and only upon receiving their silent but unanimous approval took the jacket and quickly put it right over the hoodie he was already wearing. He even zipped up despite the warm weather to demonstrate he had no intentions to part with it. Chip nodded his approval, and they resumed walking towards the plane. Crisp forced himself to wait until there was at least one human feet between them, and then walked after them, carefully keeping the distance. The rest followed suit, keeping the same distance behind him. The leaving, the chief seer-off, and the other farewell-bidders. It was logical, but something was still wrong…

"Your place is beside him," Daze whispered into Digit's ear.

"You think so?" she asked hesitantly.

"Right! You are their daughter or what?" Juustoleipa encouraged her.

"True, but—"

"Go, Digit," Tammy joined in. Gripped of doubts, the mouse girl looked at her parents, but they seemed seeing and hearing nothing. Or they didn't react on purpose, allowing their children to deal with the arousing questions on their own. Crisp came to the same conclusion, so he looked back and waved at his sister, half-inviting, half-ordering her to join him. Digit submitted, and the generation symmetry became complete.

It was hard to tell whether Chip and Gadget planned it to be this way, but looking back upon reaching the ladder, their lips stretched into smiles. Everyone thought they were about to say something, but apparently the time for words was over, for the couple started climbing the wide plastic ladder out of a human toy constructor without a word. Sure, Chip was still capable of jumping into the cockpit from the ground, but Gadget was not as nimble as before, so her husband shared the step climbing with her out of solidarity. And it was very far-seeing of him, for Gadget's leg slipped a couple of times off the steps, which were made rounded for the safety of kids, and if it weren't for Chip holding her by her elbow, there would be a huge risk of her falling to the ground.

"Golly, Mom! You can barely walk! How will you endure he flight?" Digit lamented. Had Crisp said it, Chip would have thought his son was out of his mind, but his daughter could be forgiven for a bit of emotional illogic.

"Everything will be alright," Chip said over his shoulder. "If anything, I'll pilot."

"Yeah, the flight won't be too long—" Juustoleipa cut himself short, but he said enough for Digit to shake, look down and squeeze his brother's paw tightly.

" _It's good they are brother and sister,"_ Daze thought, glancing sideways at Juustoleipa with undisguised condemnation. Coincidentally, Juz thought the same and was looking at him. As the result, they looked into each other's eyes as if in the mirror, quickly turned away and started watching Chip helping Gadget to sit comfortably and fasten her seatbelt. Gadget's movements were sluggish, and her gaze was a bit laid-back. But no sooner had Chip started the engines than she gave a start, as if coming out of some trance, switched the engines off, took her goggled off her head and waved them at her daughter.

"I almost forgot! Take them, Digit! They are yours!"

The mouse girls let her brother's paw go, came up to the plane, put the goggles on, caressed her mother's extended hand with gratitude…

Then suddenly she jumped into the cockpit, onto the second row seat, grasped the plane's side with all her might and shouted stridently: "NO! YOU AREN'T GOING ANYWHERE! I WON'T LET YOU GO! NOT EVER!"

"Digit? What happened? What's got into you?" Gadget asked over her shoulder. Chip fastened her belt a bit tighter than needed, and her movements were quite restrained.

"Get out! Go down! Now!" Digit demanded instead of answering.

"Calm down, Digit," Chip wasn't as restrained as his wife, so he tried to put his hand on Digit's shoulder, but his daughter harshly pushed it off with her elbow.

"Digit, listen to me—" Tammy tried to intervene. She and the others stepped towards the Wing, but Crisp held out his paw towards them forcing the entire group to stop. Digit acknowledged her brother's informal leadership much earlier, so she addressed him while actively ignoring her parents. "Tell him, Crisp! Persuade them! Stop them! Don't you just stand there! DO SOMETHING!"

His hand still held out backwards, Crisp approached the Wing. Only when he was sure there won't be any problems from Tammy, Sparky, Daze and Juz, he turned his back to them, climbed up the ladder and extended his hand towards his sister.

"Come, Digit."

"What? Come where? I am not going anywhere! I won't leave without them!"

"Come, Digit. They need to fly."

"They won't fly! Only over my dead body!"

"Well, they will fly with you, then. Or blow themselves up right here, without any flying. What will it change?"

"How dare you, Crisp? We would never—" Gadget cut herself short as Chip angrily looked at her, his finger pressed to his lips. But she said enough for Digit to feel herself a master of the scene.

"See? It won't happen! They won't do it!"

"You're right," Crisp nodded calmly. "And why they won't do it?"

"Because I'm their daughter! And what is this talk for? Are you helping me or not?"

"That is, being their daughter, they love you, wish you well and will never harm you, right?" Crisp went on with his reasoning. Digit knew what he was leading up to and tried to counter him beforehand. "Stop manipulating me! It has nothing to do with this!"

"If their feelings mean nothing, why should your own matter?"

"Because they want to die! And I want them to live! I'm saving them! I'm on the good side!"

"You sure?"

"I am!"

"And I ain't."

"But that's obvious!"

"It's obvious you are wrong. You succumbed to egoism and panic. You are unable to think logically. You are driven by anything but desire to do good. You—"

"Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!" Digit pressed her ears to her head tightly and screwed up her eyes indicating she was protected from all things. Except maybe a punch in the chin. Crisp chose another way. He bent over the plane's side, reached the dashboard and slammed his fist against a large red button.

"What was that?!" Digit jumped up, startled by the loud sound.

"Crisp hit the self-destruction button," Gadget answered eagerly. "But since it's connected to speedometer and altimeter and configured to activate only when certain speed and altitude are reached, nothing happened."

"I didn't know about speed and altitude," Crisp said.

"W-w-what?" Digit barely blurted out. "You… you wanted to blow me up? Blow us all up? You… you—"

"GET OFF THE PLANE!"

It was hard to tell whether Crisp's command mainly terrified or surprised Digit, but still she obeyed, flew over the side like a bullet, barely touched the ground as she reached Tammy in several phenomenal leaps and pressed herself to her belly, almost knocking the larger squirrel down. Daze and Juz evaluated their strength and mass and rejoiced that she hadn't chosen them.

"Crisp, that was…" Gadget struggled to choose appropriate words. "You shouldn't have done it! How will you—"

"I'll handle it, Mom," Crisp assured her, smiling forcedly. "Fly. Please. A few more minutes, and I'll start behaving like Digit."

"A father's son," Gadget caressed his shaggy cheek. "I love you, Crisp. You are my pride. Farewell. And… thanks."

"Not at all, Mom. I love you, too. And you, Dad. Farewell." The young chipmunk descended the ladder going backwards, and Chip switched the engines on. The plane reached the height of the human fourth floor, give or take, then engines rotated directing coaxial contra-rotating propellers backwards, and the Wing darted towards ideally straight oceanic horizon.

"A father's son," Gadget repeated, this time Chip being her only listener.

"Well, not only father's," Chip answered with a smile but without turning his head. "Such fits of rage, although fully justified, are rather yours."

"Oh, come on!"

"No, really! Remember, for instance—"

"Don't remind me," Gadget raised her hand and slapped her paw against her hair. "Strange, where are my— Oh, golly, I totally forgot I gave them to Digit!"

"You did," Chip confirmed, casting alert sidelong glance at his wife. "You really forgot that?"

"What do you expect? So many things happened… Crisp knew about speed and altitude needed for the explosion, didn't he? I'm sure I discussed it with him."

"Of course he knew. I discussed it with him."

"Oh, yes-yes-yes, and I discussed it with Digit," Gadget nodded and winced with pain. "Darn, I'm so fed up with it. I can't even shake my hand or turn quickly."

"It will be over soon, be patient."

"I'm being patient for gosh knows how long… They will be alright, won't they?"

"Yes."

"Will they forgive him?"

"He'll explain everything."

"Digit might not believe him."

"She's forgiving. Just like you. Then again, he's her twin brother. She'll feel he's telling the truth."

"Yes, probably. I hope she's more sensible than me."

"Don't slander yourself."

"It's true. If it weren't for that dart piercing you, I would never know I loved you. And would never know how much you love me."

"If that's what you mean, then you shouldn't worry about Digit. She's aware of the others' feelings towards her."

"Who are you talking about? Do I know them?"

"Daze and Juz? I hope you do."

"Don't be so sarcastic. I thought maybe you meant someone else."

"No, I don't know anyone else. Do you?"

"Me neither."

"That's good."

"You are still convinced that Daze and Juz are the best options?"

"In many aspects — yes."

"But not in all of them?"

"Well, nobody's perfect. The most important thing is, she's genetically compatible with them."

"I wouldn't be so sure about Daze."

"But you did the analysis."

"I did. And it's ambiguous. The percentage is high, yes. But not one hundred by far."

"We don't have hundred, too."

"We don't have sixty-three."

"It's still above the threshold."

"Symbolic threshold. It's not a phase transition of mercury into a Bose–Einstein condensate. In genetics all is vague. Yes, it worked out for us. But, in all sincerity, we were just very, very, very-very lucky."

"Digit will be lucky, too. And Crisp. They'll find their love, I'm sure of it. And they will have children of their own."

"They will have to survive it first. That is, Crisp will surely survive it, he won't be the one giving birth."

"That was an accident, sweetie."

"Of course it wasn't a murder conspiracy."

"Well, in the worst-case scenario, the Digit's soul mate will raise their son and die with her name on his lips. Just like Dale."

"You think that sounds optimistic? And besides, we weren't there, and he turned off his radio. How do you know what his last words were?"

"I'm judging by myself. If I had been there, my last words would have been 'I love you. Gadget!'"

"Despite this, I am very happy you weren't there. I know that sounds egotistic, but—"

"Don't mention it. To be honest, I am happy about it, too," Chip admitted. He was sincerely glad that Dale had been the one to locate that bomb. He was the only team member apart from Gadget, who could quickly surmise that if you pick off at least one fragment of explosive lens, the primary explosion won't be powerful enough to make the plutonium core reach its critical mass, so there wouldn't be any nuclear explosion. The indiscriminate watching of various action flicks finally paid off. Unfortunately, in contrast to the characters from the movie he was inspired by, Dale located the bomb with less than a minute left until the detonation, and there was just not enough time for him to run away to safety. Of course, he could have probably not even tried to, but Chip didn't believe that was the case. Dale loved life like nobody else, and he would have never abandoned Daze willingly. In any case, there was something they could bury after that explosion. Crisp and Digit won't have anything…

"Don't you think we've flown too far away, dear?"

"Yes, you're right, it's time. Are speed and altitude good enough?"

"They are top-notch. Any second thoughts?"

Chip was about to put his right paw on the red button, but stopped at the question. He had long decided everything for himself, but still ran all pros and cons through his mind once more. There were more pros, but there were cons, too. Chip was surprised to find himself hesitating. Really hesitating, unlike previously. His past confidence simply vanished. Or maybe it wasn't there in the first place? Maybe he was lying to himself all this time?

"So what, Chip? We go back?"

"No," Chip clenched his paw into a fist a couple of times, then put it on the button. "That would be wrong. First of all, for Crisp. He went to all length to let us fly away."

"And he is the leader now," Gadget added.

"Yes, he's the leader now," Chip repeated. "There's no more place for me back there. My place is out there, by your side. I love you, Gadget."

"I love you too, Chip." The mouse put her palm on her husband's paw. Chip leaned forward and pressed his lips to her half-open mouth. They didn't coordinate their actions, but knew one another so well they pressed the button simultaneously.

"That was it? You saw it, didn't you? That was it, yes?" Digit asked nervously, addressing Daze and Juz, who were sharing the stationary binoscope eyepiece. The boys didn't know what to answer and whether they should, so it was Tammy who broke a dragged pause, as she turned away from the left eyepiece she was sharing with Sparky. "Yes, my girl. That was it."

Digit's lower lip started trembling. She inhaled deeply and loudly through her nose, jumped down on the ground on all four limbs, fell to her knees, pressed her nose against asphalt and cried violently. Daze and Juustoleipa jumped after her and began to assuage her, clumsily but sincerely. Tammy had to spend some time to promise Sparky she would explain everything later, so she was the last to approach Digit. But that was she who was able to find the right words and points of contact for Digit to stand up, wipe her eyes, nod her head answering questions about how she was and whether she would handle it. And then she shouted mightily, addressing the lone figure on the terrace fence. "SO?! HOW DOEST IT FEEL?! THEY ARE DEAD! HAPPY NOW?!"

Crisp lowered his father's binoculars he used for form's sake only, for the lens was too small and the distant objects were blurred. He imagined parting with his parents in many ways, but not like this at all. But now, with the funeral armistice over, there were no other choice but to accept the challenge. Just the first one of the many to come, but probably the most important of them all.

"I wanted that no more than you did," he began, jumping off the fence.

"No! Don't come close!" Digit screamed wildly as she hid behind Tammy. "Murderer! MURDERER!"

"That was their choice! I couldn't do otherwise!"

"I am not talking about them! You wanted to blow up US!"

"Oh, you mean the button—"

"Yes, I mean the button!" Digit mocked her brother. "You were ready to kill us all! And… and for what?! I don't want to see you!"

Digit dug her face into Tammy's back, indicating the conversation was over and all objections are futile. Crisp stepped forward, but Daze and Juz sidestepped towards one another, as if closing the gates in front of him. They didn't hide their glances like Digit, but they clearly felt the same about Crisp.

"I didn't want to blow up anybody. I knew there will be no explosion," Crisp called his sister over her guards' heads.

"Liar!" Digit shouted from behind Tammy.

"I'm not!"

"You said you didn't know it! Didn't know about speed and altitude!"

"I lied."

"Oh, so you did lie!"

"Yes, I lied to scare you and make you go away."

"And to allow Mom and Dad to kill themselves!"

"You love them, don't you?"

Digit didn't expect this question, so she even leaned from behind her cover to answer it. "Yes, I love them! Loved! But they are no more! And all because of you!"

"You're talking about them in past tense. They are a history for you already? They don't exist for you anymore?"

"Shut up! Shut up! You have no right to say this! You killed them!"

"They were killed my Mom's illness and Dad's love for her—"

"No! It was you!"

"They couldn't live without one another. If they stayed—"

"They would be alive!"

"—their life would be miserable. Both for them and for all of us—"

"Speak for yourself!"

"—and you would be the first to curse and blame yourself for not allowing them to go then, that is, now. You wouldn't be able to forgive yourself, wouldn't be able to find peace of mind, and wouldn't be able to meet their eyes. I know what I'm talking about, for I would feel myself exactly this way, and we are very close, you and I, in this regard. Yes, I didn't allow you to stop them, I allowed them to fly away, but trust me, I wanted them to stay, to be with us, here and now. But I had to let them go, I had to let them be together forever, without hurt and without hurting us, for they would understand that we suffer seeing their sufferings, and that would make them suffer even more, and that would become unbearable. I did the right thing, we all did the right thing in the end, but it's hard and sad and painful and sorrowful and, and—"

Crisp stopped short, turned his back to his friends, pressed his face to his coat's raised collar and cried violently. He cried almost soundlessly, seldom sobbing and brokenly twitching with his shoulders. So when he felt somebody's hand on his head, he shook with his entire body and turned around fast. At first he thought it was Juustoleipa standing before him, but after blinking and refocusing his sight he recognized his sister.

"Digit," he spoke forcedly. "I'm sorry…"

"No, Crisp," the mouse answered, embracing him and putting her head on his shoulder. "It's me who is really sorry. I shouldn't have done, it just overcame me—"

"I didn't intend to kill you—"

"I know. Forget it. It's just— I'm sorry."

"I would give up anything to… to bring them back…"

"Me too…"

"But I couldn't have done otherwise…"

"I know…"

"I miss them so much…"

"Me too…"

Nobody heard the words they were exchanging, but Daze, Juz and, of course, Tammy knew they must be left alone. They needed to be together, to live through this, to bear it, to withstand it and to find if not conciliation, then at least a convincing enough answer to the question of how to live from this point on…

"There's nothing there!"

Everybody turned to look at the source of the sound. It was Sparky who was staying at the binoscope for all this time.

"There's nothing there!" the rat repeated. "Nothing at all! Nothing's happening!"

"But that's great!" Tammy shouted back, her forced smile almost reaching her ears.

"What's great in that? Something must be happing there!"

"No, dear, it mustn't!"

"Really?" Sparky looked into the eyepiece to make sure. "Oh, then it's great! And what are we doing here if nothing should be happening here?"

Tammy thought Crisp and Digit were too depressed and shouldn't have heard that, so she turned to them, her facial expression being that of deep and sincere apology. But the chipmunk and the mouse smiled at her knowingly with the corners of their lips and shrugged their shoulders, and Tammy was greatly relieved.

"Well, you know, there's nothing happening here indeed," Juz observed. He was the most hardened of them all, so he recovered faster than anyone else.

"You are right," Crisp squeezed her sister's shoulder reassuringly one more time and went towards the Rangermobile parked at the binoscope's base, smoothing out his jacket's wet and crumpled collar. "This is a very sad day. I dare to call it the blackest day in the history of our team. But I know my Dad and my Mom well, and I'm absolutely sure they wouldn't want us to keep mourning for too long. They would want us to get back to work as fast as possible. To resume fighting evil and saving lives. This is the only way to prove that we are worthy of them, that we are their heirs not only in blood, but also in spirit. That their heroic lives and deeds were not in vain. That their cause is alive. Agreed?"

"Agreed!" everybody said. Sparky said it while sliding down the binoscope stem like a fireman down the pole, while Daze expressed his agreement peering into the surrounding park.

"What's up?" Crisp asked.

"A girl is looking for her puppy," his friend and partner responded, having inherited phenomenal hearing from his mother. The Rangers looked in that direction and saw a distant human figure which stood out against the green background due to her pink jacket. "Looks like today, no, yesterday he ran away from her in this park and vanished without a trace."

"But the park is very small, it's hard to get lost here," Digit observed.

"Well, it's small from above," Crisp objected. "Besides, it stretches out far along the coast, in both directions. Looks like a job for the Rescue Rangers, don't you think?"

"Looks that way!" Juz fervently crackled with his knuckles.

"No time to waste," Tammy agreed. Everybody thought the same, but no one moved. Realizing what and whom they were waiting for, Crisp lost his nerve for a moment. It seemed that the hardest part was already over. That he was just one step away from completely new life, from the truly next level. And this step turned out to be the hardest. At first he wished his Dad was there — the one and only and, to tell the truth, the irreplaceable team leader who always knew what was right, what was needed and what would serve the good. It would be so good to have Chip leading the team, allowing him, Crisp, to wait a little more, to learn some more, to gain some more of experience one cannot have too much of… Then Crisp thought that on the day like this it was better to have some rest, not to mention that the team that had uncovered international conspiracies and prevented destructive acts of terror was way above handling routine problems like some missing puppy who probably just got lost and would come home soon. Besides, he was probably wearing a collar with his owners' address and phone number, so anyone who found him would know where to go…

" _No,"_ Crisp thought. _"No way. Rescue Rangers help everybody. No case is too small for us!"_ Not to mention that one of the first cases of the original Rescue Rangers team also began with a missing puppy — or was it a kitten? Yes, kitten! — and ended with saving the city from being destroyed by Professor Nimnul's lightning generator. You never know how the things will turn out…

"Yes, no time to waste," he said out loud. "And we won't waste any. Is everyone ready? In that case—" he inhaled deeply, rose his fist into the air and shouted as loudly as he could: "RESCUE RANGERS AWAY!"

From the day we arrive on the planet

And, blinking, step into the sun

There's more to be seen

Than can ever be seen

More to do than can ever be done

Some say, "Eat or be eaten."

Some say, "Live and let live."

But all are agreed

As they join the stampede

You should never take more than you give

In the circle of life

It's the wheel of fortune

It's the leap of faith

It's the band of hope

'Til we find our place

On the path unwinding

In the circle, the circle of life

Some of us fall by the wayside

And some of us soar to the stars

And some of us sail through our troubles

And some have to live with the scars

There's far too much to take in here

More to find than can ever be found

But the sun rolling high through the sapphire sky

Keeps great and small on the endless round

In the circle of life

It's the wheel of fortune

It's the leap of faith

It's the band of hope

'Til we find our place

On the path unwinding

In the circle, the circle of life

It's the wheel of fortune

It's the leap of faith

It's the band of hope

'Til we find our place

On the path unwinding

In the circle, the circle of life

On the path unwinding

In the circle, the circle of life

The room was almost empty. Actually, it was the interior of a steel cube, and all the ways out of it were covered with a heavy plate kept in place by neodymium magnets, CPU coolers acting as the air blowers, and a thick shielded cable. Its spread tentacle-like veins were connected to ten 5,7-inch smartphone displays stacked into four tiers and ten smartphone cameras situated and oriented so that when one looked at the screen he or she simultaneously looked almost in the center of the respective camera. It enabled natural establishing and maintaining an eye contact with a person on the other side of the screen which was of critical importance.

"Greetings, everybody," the lemming on the tenth screen which crowned the square videowall spoke. "Today is a glorious day. A very remarkable person joined our ranks. He is so remarkable that the Committee thought it was not only possible but the only right thing to do to appoint him as your, gentlemen, immediate superior. I am proud to introduce you Charles Maplewood, the secret chipmunk in charge!"

Nine rodents on the other screens who, judging from their backgrounds, occupied similar communication cubes, nodded synchronously, but quite differently. Some smiled cordially, some looked at him guardedly, and some even tilted their heads to the sides, openly assessing, even weighting their newly introduced superior. The chipmunk sitting in front of the screens looked at each one in turn and reservedly nodded at every audience member. They could not see one another, but they all saw him, so he kept a neutral facial expression. He would devise individual approaches and build interpersonal relationships later. He had all the time in the world for that.

"Thank you, commanding secret lemming in charge Shelm," the chipmunk thanked, looking at the topmost screen. "I'll do everything I can to live up to your trust in me."

"I don't doubt it, Charlie," Shelm answered. The chipmunk noted that at least three of his subordinates couldn't hide their astonishment boarding on trepidation, while another two, on the contrary, smiled skeptically with the very corners of their lips. Apparently, the lemming showed such a familiarity very rarely and only to a handful of selected few. The chipmunk did not know whether he should be happy about it or not, so he assumed unruffled air to show he was taking it for granted and advise the others to follow suit.

"Well, we have already covered a week's share of officiousness, so let's wrap it up. I won't hold you up any longer. Get to work," Shelm said and promptly disconnected.

The chipmunk glanced over the active screens once again. He had commanded nine team members in the past, but now it was completely different, for each screen matched one of the nine historical geographical regions of the USA, and the rodents on them were the heads of the regional cells. They were the fourth hierarchy level. He was the fifth. There were only three above him: continental, hemispherical, global. IN other words, there was still a room for growth.

"Secret chipmunk in charge Charles Maplewood, may I ask you a question?" the chief of the Pacific coast spoke suddenly. Unlike Shelm's, his voice passed a whole array of distortion filters before reaching the common channel. That's why nobody except the chipmunk using the dedicated line could identify him which provided additional layer of security, nor distinguish excessively luscious notes and a stress on the word 'Charles'.

"You may."

"How was your flight?"

"More than successful, thank you," the chipmunk said with no paltering. Indeed, everything went just as planned. When they pressed the button, the folds of bulletproof glass extended from the sides of the Ranger Wing, sealing the cockpit, and then the makeshift life-saving capsule was dropped vertically down. It fell down for almost a foot before the now unmanned plane was destroyed by explosion. It served as both a smokescreen and a signal for Shelm's loyal friend, Katya the orca, who reached the designated square beforehand. Of course, the whole operation, from falsifying the tomography results to transporting two Rescue Rangers now considered dead to the target location, was managed by the Pacific cell, so its chief's vast knowledge didn't come as a surprise. But the fact of him raising this particular question here and now seemed suspicious. What was that? Was he enhancing his own reputation? Was it a warning? A hint to the others? The first day on the new position, and so many question already…

Maybe he shouldn't have accepted this position? Maybe he should have started from the previous level? From the aforementioned Pacific cell, for instance? Of course, Shelm assured him that it was too low a level for him, that his talent would be wasted there, that he deserved much more, but the organization statute disallowed appointing novices for more global positions. But Shelm could have been wrong about him…

Or maybe, he himself was wrong about him? Maybe he shouldn't have offered himself to join the organization? After all, Shelm and his bureau needed his genius wife only, and he was just an addition to her, even though a valuable one. Maybe his place wasn't here? Maybe he was out of place here?..

" _Calm down, Charlie, keep your cool,"_ the chipmunk reprimanded himself. Shelm had droned on and on about necessity to grow accustomed to his new identity and even stop reacting to his old name, so he did his best to call himself Charles Maplewood even in his thoughts. He also did his best to refer to his wife by her pseudonym only, which was not hard since designation 'secret mouse engineer in charge Gloria Hammer' sounded impressive and suited her well. He wondered how she was. After joining the bureau they spoke only once via videocall and the chipmunk couldn't help noticing that she looked blossoming. What was the main cause of it? Intensive restorative therapy course to excrete poisoning substances she consumed to simulate oncology persuasively? Or diving headfirst into her native element? He will ask when they meet…

"The overhead expenses report will be on your table by 10 PM," the Pacific chief promised after a polite pause. Actually, he was promising to deliver a fresh report about the progress of the new Rescue Rangers team right on time. But the context was alarming. What was that? Just a simple service zeal and desire to gain his favor right from the start? Or a camouflage for true feelings towards him as a rodent who occupied the position the chief of the Pacific cell wanted for himself? Would his dislike confine to such veiled stings, or should some more active and unpleasant actions be expected from him? Or maybe it's just paranoia out of nothing? No, there are no trifles in this business. Like Dale would certainly say, 'they let me onto the next level but gave no new lives'.

On the other hand, there was a way to obtain those. Just one promotion to reach one of the top three hierarchy levels, and he would become part of the organization's elite, recognized carrier of unique knowledge and experience who must be tended, cherished and kept safe. All the way to extending his life by transplanting organs no longer needed by their owners. The black transplantology flourished in hot spots like the Balkans and the Middle East, as well as the regions where the commoners' lives never had much value, like South-East Asia or Latin America. Owing to the bureau's specific work conditions and high 'quitting' rate there was never lack of donors. In this regard the injunction to never leave behind alive nor dead agents gained trivial sense of instruction to save precious resources similar to calls to bring plastic bottles and batteries for recycling. Life is life, as they say. On the other hand, there was a reason to hope that Monterey Jack's death was not in vain, and his mighty heart continued to beat in the chest of one of the supreme secret rodents. Maybe even Shelm's, for the lemming obviously had spent much more time in this world than laws of nature allowed for.

Still, is he, Charles Maplewood, the one to blame him for it? He would gladly accept the similar 'medication' if he was offered to. Years and pressures took their toll, and he wanted to have time to do so much, to live long enough to attend incognito his son's and daughter's weddings, to watch them nursing their children, to learn from the news and reports of their new feats which would remain deeds of some elusive do-gooders for the general public. After all, they had prevented only one terrorist attack involving nuclear bomb, and who knows how many of those were being planned at the moment?

Although, no. Nuclear bombs are too dangerous. They would be better off looking for missing puppies, kittens, canaries and aquarium fish for all their lives. He, their father, would deal with the bombs. Fortunately, he has all the necessary skills, resources and authority for that.

"Thank you very much, I'm looking forward to it," he said to the chief of the Pacific cell with a pleasant smile, and then looked through all the screens again. "And now let's get down to business. New England, report your status."


End file.
